Not homefree yet
by Fee4444
Summary: Ziva's just back from Somalia and realises that she isn't quite safe yet. We all think she got over Somalia to quickly. Rated T for obvious reasons. Gibbs and Ziva-father and daughter relationship
1. Chapter 1

She was home. She was in America. She was never going back. They had saved her. Tony, McGee and Gibbs, they'd come for her. In all honesty Ziva had given up on them. They had told her time and time again that they weren't coming for her. She just wasn't that important. Ziva had been abandoned by everyone, everyone she ever loved. And they weren't coming back.

But they did. She smiled, laughter coming through, they came. From all the pain and suffering she endured she thought she was dead, died and gone to hell. She was sitting in Gibbs's house now, wrapped up in a blanket on his settee and she was safe. She was safe and sound.

"Ziver," Gibbs whispered as he came into the room. "Hay look I'm going to bed, you need me you call. Got that?"

She smiled and curty gave him a nod. She felt warm knowing that he cared; he was taking care of her. He was her stabilisers until she could ride by herself again. Sometimes you do forget these things she had to remind herself. Sometimes it is not weak to accept a helping hand when you need it. Slowly she lay down feeling the comfort of the settee under her instead of the cold, hard stone that she had become accustomed to over the past few months. As her eyes shut she felt the vicious attack of Saleem's knife cutting into her tender skin, slitting her dainty cover as if it was paper, thick red blood dribbling out from the cut. His face appeared, his sick twisted expression making her feel nauseous. She gasped, opening her eyes as she took in her surroundings.

"You are safe," She cried to herself, "You are safe David."

Without realising it she slipped away, sleep introducing itself to her once more. She didn't even realise the pain this would bring.

"_Nobody's coming to safe little Ziva," He spat, hissing like a snake at every opportunity._

"_I do not need help." She told him. At this point she was still confident in herself, in them._

"_Oh yes, 'cause little Ziva looks after herself. Little Ziva can do anything_," _He slammed his fists into the chair, yanking back a chunk of her matted brown hair, his voice turning suddenly harsh, "You Jewish whore!"_

_He punched her jaw, once, twice. He spat in her eye, slowly slipped his dirty fingers into places they should not be, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She started to hyperventilate, her hands fiddling with the rope. She panicked. As he continued she screamed, unsure of how else to react._

"Ziver, Ziver," Gibbs woke her, carefully stroking her cheek, "Ziva it's ok, Ziva you are safe."

She sat up straight still screaming. Tears streamed down her face, shaking horrendously. All she wanted to do was die, just drop down dead at that moment. She looked at Gibbs as he wrapped himself around her, to comfort and prove nothing would hurt her. As she cried he hushed her, every now and then whispering that she was ok and she was safe. He wouldn't let them hurt her again.

"They said you weren't coming," She cried into his chest, still shaking, the aftermath still vivid. "I did not know what to do."

Suddenly she leaped up, stalking off and leaning against a wall. What was she doing? She was trained for this, she was tried to react and to get back to normal, quick as. If she didn't she would be no use to mosaad. But then again if she was really mosaad then she would be dead. 'Cause it was her team, her partner that saved her, not her father. "_You are weak!" _The words returned to her like demons in the night _"Black eyed Jew!" _She let out more tears as she collapsed. How was she supposed to react to this? Gibbs once more wrapped her in his arms like he did with Abby in the elevator. This was his daughter and she needed him. She had been abandoned and she needed him. He would not leave her like Eli did.

"Ziver one day all this will just be a distant memory but right now you need to fight. You need to fight with us. Can you do that?"

She nodded into his chest as tears scored down her face.

"Good girl."

He sat with her like that for an hour before she slowly fell asleep, at which point he lifted her up, slowly and careful, before placing her back on the settee, pulling the blanket up and sitting beside her. If she woke up he would be there, to listen or comfort. He would be there like he had been before.

_He pulled the knife along her lower back as he held her fragile head in his hand. She was limp. Why bother? She could do nothing. She had been there little over a month, raped seven times, earned enough scars to last a lifetime, swore at more times than had left Hitler's mouth. How much more she could stand she did not know but somehow she would survive. She would live. Papa would save her._

She woke at lunch time, her night haunted by vicious attacks both fiction and fact, the latter more horrifying than the former. She had hardly eaten in Somalia; she had lost a lot of weight, some she was too keen to recover. As Gibbs gave her the plate her hunger immediately decreased as her appetite was suddenly drained.

"I am not hungry," She told him, running a hand threw her thick, matted hair.

"Eat. It's good for you," He left her alone as he made his way to the door.

Abby stood there, hair up in two high pigtails. She wore black trousers with descending chains, clicking together like bells, her black t-shirt read 'bite me' and her red dog collar lay lifelessly around her neck. The atmosphere of happiness and innocence she usually brought with her was replaced with sorrow.

"Can I see her?"

Gibbs stepped back from the door silently as she allowed herself in. She saw Ziva, curled up on the settee, playing with the food that sat on front of her. Abby carefully came round, making herself seen before sitting beside her, wrapping her arms around her into a famous 'Abby hug'.

"Hay Abby," She spoke, voice drained of life, drained of hope and acknowledgment.

"Hay, I thought I'd see how you were,"

"I am fine."

She didn't look up at her, instead keeping her eyes firmly on the plate. Abby opened her mouth to say more but no words left her lips. It was as if someone had stolen her voice.

"I, I need to go to the bathroom," Ziva told her, getting up and making her way out of the room.

"Have I done something?" Abby asked Gibbs once she was out of earshot, "Because I only want to help."

Gibbs sighed, "No Abs. You haven't done anything. She's just finding it tough. She'll come round."

"I hope so."

Ziva dried her hands as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her brown hair was loose, tangled, clinging to her like children do their father's. Her eyes were bleak, void of all that she was. What was she doing? Pull yourself together David! She forced herself out of her thoughts as she unlocked the door and pulled. It didn't open. She pulled again and again. Quickly she began to panic as she realised the size of the room. The lights went out and the room descended into darkness, where the demons had haunted her for months. She backed away, fear overtaking her as she felt the blows of Saleem and his men.

"_Nobody's coming!" He taunted as he hit her, over and over, purposefully in places to make her feel vulnerable, weak. "You bitch! You think you can break in here and everything will be ok? You mock me!"_

_Once more he hit her, fist making contact with her jaw before taking out his knife and cutting across her right breast, blood oozing out._

She screamed as she slammed her fists on the door, tears welling in her eyes and slithering down her cheeks where they continued to fall. "Please, please let me out!"

She heard Gibbs and Abby rushing up to the door. She could feel their worry in their footsteps alone. She called again and again to release her, to let her out. Without a moment's hesitation Gibbs broke down the door, lifted her up and brought her into the hall. She breathed in deeply, taking in her surroundings. Abby dropped down beside her, stroking her cheek.

"They were there, Saleem he was," She cut herself off as tears fell from her eyes.

"Saleem's dead Ziva, it's ok." Gibbs told her softly.

But it wasn't and she still had a long way to go before she was homefree.

**Please review. There will be upcoming chapters as long as I get some reviews. I'll be gone for a week or so, so I will update as soon as possible.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was only a few days from Ziva's episode in the toilet and she had not quite recovered from it. She stopped locking the toilet door and Gibbs took up the habit of knocking on the door before entering. She laughed to herself. First time he ever knocked. They had all visited her, tried to talk to her, get her to open up but since her episode she had not said a word. Somehow the words got lost between her brain and her lips; she had given up replying to questions and statements, given up caring they were there. She had not cried either. She was determined not to allow them to see her pain. She was determined to hide behind a mask and one day she could convince herself and them that she was fine and would return to NCIS and let this horrible dream seep slowly into history.

She was just sitting on the settee, staring forward, eyes emotionless, and face blank. She heard the doorbell sound but all she understood was the demons scratching at her skin and inner soul. As she listened to the people entering she realised something. Everyone had come, Ducky, Tony, McGee and Abby. They had come to see her. Ziva listened to their joy filled voices behind her but her eyes stayed glued on front of her.

_Ziva sat, tied to the chair, wrists dry and sore with rope burn, splinters in her forearm from the broken chair. She believed she was dead, sent to hell for her horrid crimes in the living world. The poor lighting cast ghostly shadows across the room. She was always rather unsure whether the monsters in the corners were real or imaginary. Her imagination was always active these days. Had someone opened the door? Or perhaps it was closed, shutting her off from the world of two sides, those who loved her and those who wanted her dead. At one point she believed them to be about fifty-fifty but now she believed them to be a lot less in her favour._

_She heard Saleem and his men discussing her, their voices thick with hate. She was not sure if the German was for her benefit or not but had they forgotten she was fluent in more languages than they? _

"_I say we kill her," He sneered. She could imagine him spitting to the side, saliva a mix of blood and Flem. "Stab her in the back, a metaphor."_

"_I would not mind another child," Another laughed, "How about we use her first?"_

_She felt a catch in her throat. No, no she could not take that. No more. It was too much but when they came in she held her head high, chin putted out. She was a David. She would not let them forget that. And she didn't, even when they ripped open her flesh with a salted knife or used her as their personal ash tray. _

"Ziva my love, how have you been?" Ducky asked, unknown of her present reminiscing.

She nodded, attempting to say something, thank him for asking but she couldn't. She just simply couldn't. Instead she smiled, forced her skin to glow and her eyes to pretend. She was good at pretending, treated it like a game. Abby came to sit beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, McGee sitting beside Ducky however Tony stood still, eyes glued on her vulnerable soul. He was none more convinced than Gibbs but he would not allow her to know that. So instead he smiled, cracked a joke, laughed with the others whilst he made silent conversation with Ziva's heart, Ziva's wounded, broken heart.

Gibbs watched from the other room. He could feel her pain, the memories resurfacing every other minuet. Her silence scared him and very little scared Gibbs. He traced the scar on her wrist. It didn't seem deep, didn't seem completely permanent but it wasn't the physical scars that scared him so. It was the mental ones, the ones she could never completely lose. He came over and sat beside her, taking her hand and rubbing it with his thumb. Slowly he lowered his head into her ear and whispered so quietly that even she wasn't sure she heard,

"Don't let that bastard win Ziver. That's an order."

She looked up to him, warm earnest brown eyes locking onto his sheltered blue mists. She gave him a firm nod._ Never_, she promised herself, _never will he beat me_.

Each day she took another step, promised herself that one day she would be fine, back to normal. She would live in her own home again, go to work and be normal. Even she could not fool herself enough to believe that could happen soon and she knew she would never be 'normal'. Gibbs was going back to work that day, he would leave her be for a few hours but he assured her someone would be checking in on her. She wanted to argue, didn't need a babysitter but she was still mute, imprisoned by her own tongue. She sat, curled up on the settee, reading a great thick book called 'the passage'. She was enjoying it, really she was but her mind would not focus on Amy Harper Bellafonte or FBI agents.

She heard the door opening, heard it creek like something in a movie Tony once showed her. That day seemed like a lifetime ago, a saga before terror entered her life. She placed the book on the floor, careful as if making a noise would wake the dead as she slid behind the wall, reaching out her hand to find the knife she had carefully placed there. As she tightened her grip around the handle the mysterious intruder entered the room. She turned full heartedly as she moved to plummet it into the intruder's gut. But she stopped, mere centimetres as she realised this man was friend not foe. She looked into his pale green orbs, so worried and scared but not for the life he almost lost but for her. She had almost killed him but he worried for her. Slowly he moved to disarm her and she gave up without a fight.

"I thought you were asleep, I didn't want to wake you," He told her softly as he put the plastic bag on the chair. "I'm glad you didn't kill me."

She was about to joke with him, laugh and tell him it had crossed her mind before but memories resurfaced and she couldn't do anything but close her mouth and nod. _One day, _she promised, _one day my struggle will be over._

**Thank You for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated. Sorry this chapter took so long and is not a great length but I have been away and am returning to school next week. Sigh. Anyway those who are still interested, I hope you enjoy. I will update sooner than last time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all who are reading this. Your reviews are giving me a serious ego boost, one I really needed. Thanks you guys, especially mmkbrook who has given me some help with their reviews. Wow I feel like Abby, I am on a major caffeine boost at 00:14 in the morning. Whoosh, maybe I'll manage to finish and post this chapter by tonight, or later morning. Anyway…**

_Ziva watched as the men circled her, like vultures waiting for the victim to die so they could feast on its carcass. She shivered at the thought but her eyes never left the men'. As one moved out of vision she watch the other two. Her training taught her to see the last but not with her eyes but her ears that could carefully place him as he heavily placed his feet on the cold cement. Her heart was heavy with pain and loss. She was on the verge of giving up, the last glimmer of hope fading. She had long given up on Eli David and his minions but Gibbs and his team, Gibbs and _her _team; she had not yet given up hope. They would come. She knew it._

_After a century of pacing they began to close in, just a footstep closer each time. It was meant so she would not notice it, a gradual thing, one another may not have picked up on. But she did, and this scared her. Once they reached arm's length the one behind her gripped her loose curls and yanked it back. Somehow amongst the pain she managed to mentally query how her hair did not detach from her scalp. The next one, closest to escaping her vision again threw a clumsy fist to her eye. For a moment the world was black, void of those that were torturing her but unfortunately she received a moment of clarity and the mist cleared. She was just in time to receive a competing blow from the third man, a more aimed first to her jaw. She locked up, forced her head to the side to spit out the blood that made its way to her mouth, before looking into the former blow's master. His eyes were cold, dusted over, however he was enjoying this. He enjoyed watching her suffer, enjoyed the pain he caused. Somehow she knew him, remembered him. He was a returning customer and immediately she placed him. He was the one that didn't 'mind another child'. But she looked at him. He had no intention of that this time. This time, she reminded herself. She could not place the other two. All this happened in an instant, all before she was brought into reality by a fist to the gut. Somehow she managed to mumble, "Why?" to her attackers. The one behind her burst into laughter, swiftly followed by the others. Well, she knew their ringleader, the boss under the boss. He spoke, gruffly, as if his voice had not been used in a while,_

"_It is my job to rid my country of people like you," He spoke the last word in disgust, "You black eyes Jews, your kind make me feel nauseous. I should be awarded for having to deal with you. You insult us, you sub-human whore. I am more than you ever can be!"_

_He ripped her Star of David from her neck, tightened his grip around the star before looking at her, "This is what we think of you and your religion."_

_He threw the pendant to the floor, spitting on it and stomping it with his black boot. "Let the whore suffer."_

_He stormed from the room and the two back traced a little, simultaneously looking at each other. Their glance frightened her. She knew what it meant. By the time they left she would be seconds from death. But they knew how to keep her alive whilst inflicting the most pain she could possibly manage. Still she kept her pride; she wouldn't let them take that. They could take all the jewels they liked, all her beauty, even her life but not her pride. Never would she allow them to take that._

"_For our country," They slyly whispered before swaying towards her, fists and knifes at the ready._

_Her screams echoed the halls, the rooms throughout the building. But no-one came to her rescue and no-one did come for several months more._

She opened her eyes, tears clutching to her eyes. Why? Why was she here? Why didn't she die there? Saleem's death was not enough. They needed to suffer, like they made her suffer. But they didn't. She wanted to scream, let out the rage she was caging back. She wanted to kill, like they did, she wanted to inflict pain on others, on innocent souls, like they did. She wanted to make someone suffer, like they did. But she couldn't.

She was weak, she needed vengeance. She took the book she was reading, threw it across the room so it clattered into the wall and dropped to the floor with a thud. Thank the heavens for gravity. She slipped gracefully to the wall before turning, thrusting her full blown fist into the wall, over and over again, denting the wall. A scream echoed in her throat as she let out the escaping rage, blood oozing out from her knuckles but she did not stop. She leaped into the air, twisting before jutting out her leg in an attempt to deliver a masterful blow to the wall. Tears slid down her face as she screamed and attacked. She was blank to her pain, to the world; she was just there, attacking that smug Saleem and his followers. She could imagine it as a bottle that had smashed, right now she was the glass of the bottle but soon she would be the liquid, the aftermath of it all when she would look at the wall with disdain as the tears slid down her face, alone, without the accompaniment of her misdirected rage.

Gibbs entered; he had left for milk only fifteen minutes ago. Ziva had been fast asleep; torment seemed vacant on her peaceful face. But he entered to her destroying his wall, tears stroking her face, a noise in her throat attempting to leave, blood dripping from her fist, lining her arm and dropping to his floor. He dropped the carton of milk before pulling her from his wall, enclosing her in his chest as she cried, and her apparent rage vacant as he dropped to the floor, shushing her as he stroked her hair, rubbing her back and kissing her cheek. He sighed. She wasn't as far as he had thought; in fact she was more broken than he had originally believed. He wasn't sure if he could piece her back together. The pieced were too small, too many missing.

She sat there, facing the crumbling wall. Gibbs told her it would be alright, not to feel guilty about it and he would fix it in the morning. She didn't want to be sitting here anymore. She didn't want to be anywhere anymore. It was funny, she mused, when she was in Somalia she let herself slip into America, into the team's life and now she was here, she was here, home and all she wanted to be was gone. She didn't want to be alive anymore, the pain was too much. Why had she survived when others had died? Why had they not survived as well? She should have died back there. Tony, Gibbs and McGee should not have come. They should not have saved her. She should have died. She did not deserve them. Ziva David is a heartless killer, always was always will be.

She stood up, slung her bag on her back and left, quietly as not to disturb anyone. Actually she surprized herself how easily she had managed to leave. Gibbs should have realised something hours before she left but she took it as luck that he didn't. She would be a burden to them no more.

**Thanks, tell me what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs climbed the old wooden stairs from his basement. He was checking on Ziva, swearing he could have heard the front door close. He looked into the living room and instinctively knew Ziva was not in his house anymore. He rushed to the door and down the street for a bit before sighing and lifting out his phone.

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs barked down the phone,

"Yes boss," Tony mumbled, still half asleep, "its two o'clock in the morning."

"Ziva's missing."

Tony leaped up, the last essence of sleep oozing away like sand in his hands. "What, when?"

"About ten minutes ago, I don't know!"

Tony jumped as Gibbs shouted the last bit. "I'll call McGee; we'll be round in ten."

With that Tony hung up and Gibbs was left alone in the quiet of the night.

She cradled her head in her hands as the fresh dew soaked threw her clothes. She looked down at the knife on front of her. Such weapons, such things made her who she had become and she hated who she had become with every ounce of strength she had. At one point she was beginning to accept herself, even like her but then Saleem came and made her question herself, her actions and her life. Saleem had changed her and she knew herself she was not changed for the better. Tears threatened to descend down her face, threatened to show how weak she was, how vulnerable they had made her.

_He watched her, like a lion would his prey. He examined her, lust frothing from his very exterior. She held her head high as she whispered with great pride, great strength, "You are a monster."_

"_I am the monster?" He screamed, rage apparent as he gripped her hair, yanking it back and spitting in her face. "Yes, to you, to an outsider I may seem like the monster in this situation but then there is you and you my __**Jew**__," He spoke the last word in disgust, "You are no better, if not worse than me or any of my men."_

_The horror of his words made her feel physically sick. "I am worth ten of you!"_

_He laughed humourlessly, his eyes cold with hate. "No. We are on the exact same page here for you were an assassin for mosaad; you tortured and killed people, much like I am doing right now. So now we have become even and then, one more thing," He leaned in close so she could smell the stench of his breath, "You killed your own brother."_

"_Half-brother," She barked, her floors of confidence already crumbling from beneath her,_

"_But no less emotionally." He smiled as he realised he was getting to her, "You loved him."_

_She cried, mentally killing herself for displaying this essence of weakness. She killed her brother; she knew that, she had come to accept it to a certain extent. She had learned that what she did was right but now, with everything he said that rightness was slipping from her grip and she found herself questioning her life._

The same doubt crept up on her even now. Fresh tears streamed down her face as she opened both mental and physical wounds once more. Everyone she loved had died, Ima, Tali, Ari, Michael. And there was only one thing in common with each of these incidents; Ziva David. It was her fault they were all dead. If she wasn't here they may still have been alive. Team Gibbs was better off without her too.

Tony arrived outside Gibbs's door at the same time a McGee. As he made his way to the door he noticed another figure with him. It was Abby. Her pigtails were wonky and her make-up runny. Her eyes were puffy and her shoes didn't match. But as he approached her instead of commenting on her strange appearance he reached out his arms and engulfed her in a tight hug.

"She's gonna be ok," Tony told her.

"That only works when Gibbs says it," She cried softly, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"She's gonna be ok, Abby," Gibbs repeated as she broke off from Tony and wrapped her arms around her boss, her father figure.

"You promise?"

He looked at her for a brief moment before walking into his house. That second's glance told her all she needed. It was a Gibbs look but one he only used for her. It was a way of saying 'I can't promise but just trust me'.

They stood in the living room just looking at each other, nobody knowing quite what to say.

"We have three cars; we'll drive around the area and meet by the park in half an hour." Tony looked at Gibbs before adding, "That ok boss?"

He nodded, passing them as he grabbed his car keys, swiftly followed by Abby, Tony and McGee. Just as he was getting into his car Abby pulled open the passenger door. She gave him a look to rival his own before getting into the car. If Ziva wasn't missing he would have laughed. She could be tough when she wanted to be.

They met in the park half an hour later, all of them came up empty and the first traces of morning were upon them. It wasn't much, just a dim light but it helped a great deal. They looked at each other, eyes speaking what words could not. Gibbs was the first to see her and as the others captured the target of his gaze they saw her. She stood like a dear in the headlights before flinging her stuff to the ground and running as fast as she could in the other direction. Gibbs bolted after her before the others had a chance to react. She was fast he sighed as he realised age was catching up with him but he could give the chase. She ran into a wire gate, leaping up onto it, her intentions to leap over the top and lose them for good. But he caught her and her gaze caught his. Her brown eyes locked on his grey ones as he experienced the telepathic connection of her pain, her suffering. He reached up to take her spare hand. She did not protest.

The others caught up, panting as they took on the sight that was upon them. Ziva was almost over a gate, eyes locked on his. He was holding her hand, tightly but loosely at the same time. As Tony observed he realised the tight relationship they shared, father and daughter, tied with a bow. Suddenly the scene was shattered as she broke into tears and fell into his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, arms secure around his neck as she cried into his shoulder. He shushed her and stroked her hair as he used to Kelly when she cried. She took on the appearance of a six year old child, innocence become her instead of a full grown ex-mosaad assassin. Gibbs sighed as he looked at Tony who let him pass as he carried her to his car. Abby skipped along beside them holding Ziva's hand, McGee following awkwardly behind with Tony.

"She's not doing great is she?" McGee asked, worry coating his voice.

"No," He sighed, "No she's not."

Gibbs didn't even have to ask to know they were all staying the night. He set up the spare room for Abby that Ziva had refused to take, the upstairs settee for McGee and a sleeping bag on the floor for Tony. He could sort himself. Ziva sat on the settee, holding her coffee in her hands. She didn't want to drink it, she wasn't thirsty but she enjoyed the warmth between her hands. They all went to bed; Gibbs content with the knowledge Tony would keep Ziva safe. Tony was staying unusually quiet as Ziva watched him make his 'bed' more comfortable. He kissed her forehead before turning out the light, "Don't run off now Zi,"

Then the world descended into darkness where Saleem could torture her some more.

"_Now I will ask you one more time, NCIS!" Saleem roared at her, throwing a knife at her head, missing by less than a hair. "Next time I won't miss."_

"_I will tell you nothing," She told him one last time, pride and confidence evident in her tone. "My loyalties lie with them."_

_He took his knife and cut it diagonally across her face. It hurt like hell but she already knew it would not scar. After all this time here she had managed to work out what would scar or not and she was sure Saleem knew too. It was more of a warning although he had been here for hours._

"_You know I think it is time for a different tactic," He told her, nodding to his companions as he got up and left. _

_A bag with pulled over her head as the ropes were loosened from the chair. They were taking her somewhere, somewhere they could take up a new form of torture._

She woke gasping for air as she remembered the horrid form of torture that lay beyond the door in the prison. Tony was fast asleep, probably thinking of some dumb movie. She tiptoed up the stairs and into Gibbs's room. The second she shut the door she felt a wave of safety wash over her. She slipped into the bed as she had done with her own father so long ago as blissful, painless sleep overtook her.

**I may have overdone the father/daughter in this chapter but with any luck it is still good. Please, any helpful hints would be beneficial. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this took so long. I've had writer's block but hopefully I have overcome it…**

Tony woke with a loud yawn. It was early morning, around six. As he checked the clock he mentally head slapped himself. He didn't need to be up this early. He looked over at the settee. Ziva was gone. He panicked at first before he calmed himself to look about the house first before dialling 911. Her stuff was still here, that was a positive sign. He crept down to the basement and around the lower rooms before going up the stairs. He checked every room accept from the boss's bedroom. He didn't want that head slap. As he begun to panic he shook McGee, a rushed, slur of words forming from his mouth, "Zivasmissingnotheregone!"

"What?" He yawned, pushing him away.

Tony calmed himself slightly before rushing threw another, "Ziva gone,"

The noise woke Abby as she pushed the door open. "What?"

Her eyes glazed open as worry overtook her, "Have you checked everywhere?"

"Yes."

"The basement?"

"Yes."

"The kitchen?"

"Yes,"

"The toilet?"

"Yes,"

"Gibbs's room?"

He stopped himself before the automatic yes came out. She sighed, pushing past him and into Gibbs's room. There in his bed was Ziva, curled into a ball, duvet pulled right up to her chin and beside her, Gibbs facing the opposite way still sleeping. Abby pulled the door shut and looked at Tony expectantly before head slapping him.

"Hay," he protested, "only Gibbs can do that!"

They sat around the table, each with a makeshift breakfast in hand. McGee had gone on a coffee run for them, a 'Gibbs coffee' sitting on the table and a caf-pow in Abby's hand. They weren't really talking, well Abby was talking. She was going on and on about a dream or a nightmare or something she did when she was twelve, it was kind of hard to tell with Abby. The only think that made her quieten down was when Gibbs came down the stairs, took the now look-warm coffee and heated it up. He turned to his team and stared for what seemed like an eternity before Tony broke the silence.

"How is she?" He asked, trying to cover up his evident worry.

"She's,"-He paused as he tried to find the right word-"broken."

"So we gotta stick her back together," Abby interjected like a little child, "With extra glue to keep her stuck."

She smiled as he smiled; happy she managed to make him smile once more.

"Not that easy Abbs," he told her, taking his coffee and sipping it.

"She'll be alright though, she's Ziva," McGee asked hopefully.

He didn't reply, just looked at him before picking up Tony's untouched 'breakfast' and taking it up the stairs.

"Hay boss I was gonna eat that!"

Gibbs entered his bedroom, sitting beside a half asleep Ziva, nudging her and handing her the plate. She managed a weak smile. He had done so much for her, everything, she would be dead ten times over if it wasn't for him. To have been so selfish as to run off like that yesterday, she still owed him a lot and she couldn't go until she had repaid every last debt she owed him. And that was going to take her the rest of her life.

"Gibbs I know what you think of apologies but," She paused for a minuet as the words formed on her lips, "I am so sorry."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked straight at him, her bottom lip quivered, "I am so, so sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry into his shoulder. His heart almost broke with relief when he heard her speak. He had missed her voice over the last while. With everyone's help he was sure she would be fine, if she tried, if they supported her. It was like someone who had been in a car accident and in a wheelchair who was learning how to walk again. She had been in an accident called Saleem and right now they were taking baby steps and one day she would walk on her own. It might take a while but one day they would have their Ziva back.

"_Ziva!" Ari called to her_, _"Hay Ziva!"_

_She ran up to him. Her big brother was home for a week. She caught him in a tight hug as he spun her round and round. Tali followed quickly behind, Ari bending down so he could comfortably hold his seven and fourteen year old sisters in his arms. _

"_Hay Ari how long are you staying?" Tali asked as he pulled her up to his hip._

"_Just the week Tal," He sighed as he wrapped his arm around Ziva's shoulder and took them for a walk._

_He traced a long gash along Ziva's arm. She could feel his prying fingers but she refused to flinch or even look at him. Ari sent Tali away for a moment as he brought Ziva up on it._

"_Zee," Ari began but she cut him off._

"_No. You don't understand how difficult it is. He hates me, everyone hates me. I am just a bother!" Tears threatened to fall but she gritted her teeth and held them back._

"_No Ziva, I love you, Tali loves you. She depends on you, even more so after Ima. Don't be selfish!"_

"_I should not be a mother! I am forced to care for Tali every hour of every day. I am but a child myself! I should not be landed with this responsibility. I cannot take it Ari. I cannot."_

_Tears flushed down her cheeks. She stared at him point blank in the face trying to guess her next move. But when she expected a slap in the face he hugged her tightly and whispered,_

"_Oh Ziva, tataleh, you mean everything to a lot of people, so Abba is not one of them. You have me and one day this will all just seem like a bad dream,"_

But she shot him. She shot her brother and that 'bad dream' seemed to be one of the only good memories she had left.

**Sorry it a'int much but hopefully it will get my gears turning.**


	6. Chapter 6

**You know I should be doing a ton of maths homework right now but I thought I owed it to everyone to try and write something half decent. Thanks for everyone who is still reading this.**

Ziva sat the untouched plate on the bedside table. She did not want it. Why had she allowed herself to go through all that? What was she trying to accomplish? Perhaps she wanted to be killed, perhaps then she could see that her father cared. Had she done all this for her father? What was it about him that made her crave his love? She pushed herself off of the bed and down the hallway to the boxes of her stuff that people had kept for her. She opened one of them and dug right to the bottom. There her hands gripped a small plastic cuboid. Knowing she had what she wanted, she pulled it out and blew on it. In Hebrew letters, in her mother's beautiful handwriting read 'Ziva's first performance', and below it in a messy scrawl was 'my first dance'. Tears welled up in her eyes as they fell onto the word performance and smudged it. She held back the tears as she walked back to Gibbs's room, the short hallway seeming like a vast ocean.

_She smiled, innocence glowing off of her like a halo above an angel. She spun around, admiring herself in the mirror. She was wearing a tight green ballet dress, small black pumps, her hair tied up in two neat buns. Ziva was dancing a solo to begin the performance. Everyone else was wearing peach but her so she could stand out._

"_It is because they are not as special as you are little sister." Ari told her as he walked up beside her, tucking in a stray hair._

"_Ari you came!" She squealed in delight as she wrapped her arms around his waist._

"_Of course I did," He smiled, pride radiating from his very core, "I would never miss my only sister's first dance."_

"_Soon I won't be your only sister," She pointed out, a smirk on her face as she turned back to the mirror and straightened up her Star of David._

_It was true, in a few months her mother would give birth and she would no longer be the youngest. It frightened her a little but she would never let it show. Papa gave her more to worry about, like shooting at her with a BB gun at any point in time. She was slightly worried that he might shoot during the performance._

"_Shine bright little sister," He told her as he turned and left and with that her teacher hurried her to the stage where she was yet to begin her performance._

Her hands shook with anticipation as she pushed the video into the video player. For a few moments the screen was a mass of grey fuzz but shortly the stage came on screen, the red curtain still drawn and Ari sitting beside her. It was her mother filming it, even if no-one had told her she and Ari were the only two there for Ziva. Suddenly the curtains opened and music began to play. The child stood there, scared and worried, in her pretty green dress. She looked straight at the camera before straightening up and dancing. She was elegant and graceful, leaping from point to point like a professional ballerina, arms raised high above her head as she went into autopilot and became the most beautiful and talented dancer there ever was. It was hard to imagine she could only be six. Then other dancers each dressed in peach with their hair tied up in a single neat bun leaped onto the stage and her time of full attention came to a halt and even then all eyes were on her.

She wiped away the tears as the video came to the end, just as she was about to switch it off the pretty green dancer came on. She was sat on the edge of the stage.

"Tataleh how was it?"

"It was amazing mama, did you see me?" She cried with such childish enthusiasm.

"Yes I saw you. You are the best dancer in the whole wide world." She was so convincing, it almost seemed like she meant it.

"Mama, can Papa come next time? Will he see me dance?"

With that it cut off and that was the end of the tape. 'Papa' never did see her dance. There was always some excuse.

She held her breath as she came down the stairs. She had not heard any noise from down the stairs for almost an hour and she was worried. She was scared to be alone. As her foot hit the bottom step she felt a wave of anxiety. What is something had happened? She was in no condition to defend herself, or the others for that matter but as she looked around the corner she saw them all sitting around the table talking quietly. They turned to see her standing there looking like a child who had just crept out of bed when she couldn't sleep. Gibbs lit his face with a genuine smile as he extended his arm out so when she sat he could wrap it around her shoulders. She slipped out and sat next to him and slouched as if she had a hangover.

"How do you feel?" Tony asked her, pushing his coffee over to her.

She attempted to form words but somehow they got lost. She knew she had spoken earlier but now it was as if English was escaping her. Even her native Hebrew seemed to run and hide. She sipped at the coffee, the bitter taste resting on her tongue, satisfying her taste buds yet helping her acknowledge food fuelled her.

Tony sighed inwardly, hoping she could have spoken to him but still she remained still, lifeless as she had before. It was as if she could not speak, she was not brought up with languages, with speech. Who was she without the misuse of common phrases or the swift swearing of her native language? Who was she without her words, without her soul? She was not who she used to be and somehow he did not believe he should be forcing her into her old mould but rather help her to reshape into a new Ziva David.


	7. Chapter 7

_She grasped at the ropes, futilely scratching at it and her own arms in an attempt to set herself free. Is her body clock was correct he had tortured her for three days, each hour becoming more fierce, each slice more painful and each 'encouragement' more private. She prided herself that she had not cried, she had not even screamed. Her attempts to break free had just caused her wrists more damage than the rope and two of her nails had been pulled out from her skin, fallen to the concrete floor where they would shatter and be turned into the little particles of dust that tickled her skin and irritated her cuts. Her hands were red with blood, her nerves hot with pain. The muck and blood on her face had not been cleaned for weeks for she had not shed a tear to clean them with. Why would he not just kill her? He blamed what was happening for her religion, that whether she spoke or not she would have to die because that was god's will. Had her people not suffered enough during the holocaust? Had her grandmother's suffering not been enough? Apparently not as he entered once more to continue her torture, to steal her soul from her body and to trap it in a cage like a poor bird with its wings cropped so it could not fly._

She did not wish to fight any longer. She wanted to become Ziva David again. She wanted to become human. Ziva pushed herself up from the settee and made her way to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror and locked the door. She removed her clothing and traced the scars with her finger. Each scar was another memory, from Saleem, her father and the countless suicide missions she had went on. She remembered her vengeance for her sister as she traced a long, deep scar.

_She slipped into the building, completely unnoticed by every guard in the building. Sometimes she was glad of the training her father had forced her threw as a child. But then again if he had not trained her she would not have to seek vengeance, she would be here, with Ziva, where she belonged and that would be better than any vengeance. But her baby sister was dead and this was the only way she could deal with it._

_As guards came round the corner she slipped back into the shadows and by the time they passed her she was in the ventilation chamber, pushing herself threw and up a right angle, scurrying like a mouse. She wanted to get to the centre of the building where the bastards who killed her sister were, plotting their next target, plotting another way to destroy another family._

_The bomb was placed expertly and set on a five minute timer, the face claiming it to be ten minutes. She hid it before hurrying out from the building. It had taken her almost five minutes to get into the building and she knew she had not given herself enough time to escape safely but as long as they died too her death would be worth something. As she was leaving she got caught in the vent and was left with only enough time to protect herself. A large metal shard was blasted into her side just above her hip. She had been fortunate enough not to die and as well as that sneak away without leaving any evidence apart from the blood in the vent but nobody brought her up on it and she believed it to be a well-earned scar._

She curled up on the floor and let warm salty tears slide down her cheeks. She missed her baby sister so much. She missed everything from when she was a kid, when her mother was alive, her father wasn't busy with work and her brother was still her brother. Ari wasn't a terrorist he was just simply her big brother, her big brother that she killed. More tears filled her eyes as memories came back to her. Memories she would rather bury and leave forgotten. But she couldn't, she never could leave them behind. They would forever trail after her, attached to her, dragging her down like an anchor. She lifted herself off the floor and pushed her way out of the toilet and into the kitchen. Everyone turned to her, her eyes were red and puffy, her face white as snow. She looked Gibbs straight in the eyes, beautiful orbs filled with terror and whispered,

"I am ready to talk about it."

**Well thanks for those who have continued to read this. It is very short but I think I am coming to the end of my story. I only have one more chapter planned and it will be coming up within a week.**


	8. Chapter 8

She sat down, coffee on hand, the other clasped tightly in a fist. She wasn't sure about talking anymore. She wanted to get back to normal more than anything else in the world. They needed to know what she had been through. What her latest cry- for- help had put her through. Was it all just a cry for help? She could never really be sure.

"I felt so, so alone," She chocked, feeling weak from just speaking, "So vulnerable."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. Did she want to proceed or run away like a scared little kid? She didn't meet their eyes as she began to describe some of the most emotionally devastating parts of her life.

_She was tired. It had been going on for hours and she couldn't take it any longer. She wanted to tell them everything but she was loyal to them, shut her mouth and took what was coming to her. One of Saleem's lead men pulled out a lighter, gesturing for the others to remove her boots. Slowly, as to hurt her more, he ran the lit lighter over her cut and bruised flesh. The flames licked her feet like a dog would. The only difference was the blinding pain that sizzled on her bare feet. When he was done he untied her, pushing her onto the hard cement floor. She pushed herself up, her chance to fight, to escape. When she stood up however she tumbled to the ground again. It was too sore to stand. Even when she tried to push herself up again, hold it there it was too hard to defend herself. Saleem's favourite hit her to the floor and raped her. As she screamed he laughed, as she cried they smiled. Then they left her in a heap, naked and bloody, for hours and hours before Saleem came in. _

They watched in horror as she described horrific scenes, her voice catching every now and then, stopping for several minutes before continuing. Tony wanted to leave, murder every one of those bastards that hurt _his ninja. _She was broken now. Even after hearing about everything he was still sure that someday, eventually she would be Ziva David again. He would be _his ninja._

She stopped. That was it. She had nothing more to say about Somalia. All of the worst experiences she had now shared. Suddenly there was a hole in her heart; a hole that her team had made to drain out the evil things that Saleem and his men had put her threw. Now she knew she could begin to heal and one day return to what made her Ziva. She could heal.

**I know this took forever and isn't very long. I redid this like a hundred times and accidently deleted it twice. I have been very busy but I will not make excuses. Anyway I'm posting the next chapter at the same time is this. Thank you everyone that is still reading. It means a lot.**


	9. Chapter 9

Months had passed since she had told everyone. NCIS had forced her to get a councillor before she could return to work. She had been working for two months and had her own apartment again for almost two weeks. It was in a very friendly neighbourhood, about fifteen minutes from work and only fife from Gibbs's house. It comforted her to know she was close enough that if she felt unsafe she could get there quickly. When she stated she wanted to move out Gibbs was slightly uneasy but helped her mind somewhere to live.

It was almost 10pm when she heard the scratching noise outside, followed by several pitiful meows. Ziva picked up her gun and opened the door to find a beautiful little cat. He was black with a tuft of white under his chin and sparkling golden eyes. At seeing Ziva he rubbed his head against her leg as she picked him up.

"Tataleh!" She smiled in delight, "I thought you were dead."

He purred. This was Ziva's guard cat. He was vicious to anyone who wasn't Ziva. He had found her again and somehow it made her feel a lot more whole.

**Well here it is, the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I just had to give Ziva a guard cat…just like mine! Thank you for following this very slow story. Please leave a review.**


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